


Coffee

by 1cupoftea



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Morning After, slightly self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1cupoftea/pseuds/1cupoftea
Summary: Angela wakes up to clattering from the kitchen and the sound of the coffee machine.





	Coffee

She wakes up to clattering from the kitchen and the sound of coffee brewing.  
  


Angela groans, smacking her lips and opening her eyes to the sunlight peering in from the window. The curtains billow in the breeze and she moves her gaze - blinking as her eyes adjust - to the rumpled bedsheets beside her and then at the mess strewn across the floor. Papers, stacks of books - some neater than others - stuffed in corners or by table legs, the edge of the Persian rug somehow peeled back where it shouldn't be. Some of her clothes here and there. Angela sighs from her place on the bed. She has her arms crossed under a navy pillow and rests her cheek on top, her mind soft. Moira's apartment is old yet cozy and charming, with wood panelling and the smell of old books she loves so much. The rooms are slotted next to each other with a short hallway from the entrance leading to the kitchen that then merges with a sort of living room area. Moira had decided to fill it with a maroon loveseat they can both barely fit on and a coffee table. Despite the lack of clear boundaries between each room Angela doesn't mind the overall size of the apartment. It makes it more intimate, in her opinion.  
  
  
  
She hears the floor creak and glances back to see the other doctor with a cigarette between her lips and two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. The rich aroma had filled the room from the kitchen, which practically began immediately at the door to the bedroom behind her. Angela was shocked to find that some rooms didn't even have doors attached to the doorframe and had joked about having at least bead curtains for privacy. Moira had grumbled that she wasn't an old lady and loved the freedom no doors gave her in the first place.  
  


Moira's pale blue shirt is not fully buttoned, leaving her collarbones and the valley of her chest in view. Her black trousers aren't buttoned up either, Angela notices as Moira moves to place the mugs carefully on the bedside table to the right of the bed. They hang loosely at her hips and her heart skips a beat. Moira takes a drag of her cigarette and blows smoke before sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips and creaks slightly as she turns to take the cigarette between two fingers and press kisses down Angela's naked back.  
  
  
  
Angela hums in content. "When did you wake up?" She says, flipping over when Moira straightens back up. She keeps the bedsheets drawn over her breasts.  
  
  
  
"Half an hour ago." Moira replies, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep. She stands up to move to the window, opening it up a bit more to air out the room and flicks out the cigarette butt after a final drag. She stays there for a while to watch the street below them while Angela continues watching her. Her blue eyes move from her slender frame to her fiery hair, still slightly messy from sleep. "Can you come here, please?"  
  
  
  
Moira snaps her gaze back with a growing smirk. She doesn’t hesitate to walk across the room and shift across the bed, looming over Angela before lowering herself to the crook of her neck and stretching her body over hers. Angela immediately begins combing her fingers through her hair as Moira nips the junction of her neck. They lay there for a while, listening to the faint sounds of the street and each others' heartbeats.  
  
  
  
Angela shuffles suddenly to indicate she wants to get up and Moira wordlessly rolls over. She shoves on a shirt over her underwear and crosses the bed to exit the room at the door adjacent to the that of the kitchen. She crosses the hallway to the bathroom, which was bigger than she had expected when she had first come here so long ago. White, clean tiles and a modest-sized bathtub that they have shared more than a few times. When she washes her hands she notices her toothbrush in the cup beside Moira's, but can't quite place when she had left it there.  
  
  
  
When she returns Moira is testing the temperature of the coffee mugs with the back of her fingers. They still give off wisps of steam and Angela frowns as she crawls back into bed. "I can't drink coffee on an empty stomach. We have to have something to eat." She insists. "A proper breakfast."  
  
  
  
They end up making French toast after finding that Moira’s fridge is pretty much barren. She takes the helm at the stove, occasionally flipping sizzling pieces of toast while Angela scours the bedroom for something warmer to wear. She reappears in one of Moira’s long-sleeved shirts.  
  
  
  
Moira only glances at her and chuckles. The bottom almost reaches halfway down her thighs; the shoulders are way too wide and end up dropping and the sleeves extend beyond her hands.  
  
  
  
"What."

  
  
"Nothing."

  
  
"It's way too big."  
  


"Just roll up the sleeves." Moira states casually before plating the toast and turning off the stove. She opens a drawer to get cutlery as Angela sits at the table with a frown, rolling up the sleeves as much as she can and huffing. Moira puts their plates down before sitting across from her. The table is small and sometimes she has to be careful not to bump her knees into it. She reaches across to Angela, still fussing over the shirt, and takes her chin gently in one hand.  
  


“Don’t worry about it so much, darling.” She mutters and Angela flushes. They start eating before Angela suddenly gets a look of realisation across her face. “The coffee.”  
  


Moira eyes her wordlessly as she goes back into the bedroom. Her black underwear contrasts with the light shirt. But she looks elegant - cute even, especially in Moira’s clothes.  


  
Angela sets the mugs on the table with a sheepish smile. “Hope you don’t mind that it’s cold.”

  
  
Moira raises her eyebrows and her tone is teasing. “Who wanted a ‘proper breakfast’?”

  
  
“It’s nicer this way!” She protests, taking a sip and grimacing. Moira has to struggle to keep a straight face.

  
  
“Alright, love, whatever you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> im really bad at titles


End file.
